


in tradition with

by itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics



Category: South Park
Genre: Aliens, Horror, If You Squint - Freeform, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Multi, Stress, Tentacle Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics/pseuds/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics
Summary: Everyone has a secret in this little town, and Kenny will do whatever it takes to save his loved ones, even if they're on the wrong side of the battle.Kenny once thought his life had settled down mostly, until townies started showing up in the woods torn to pieces. Now he and Tweek have to find out what the hell Craig is exactly doing up in that once-abandoned lab, and why the newly-elected mayor Kyle is so unusually tight-lipped about the military personnel flooding the town.Of course he's also reconnecting with an old flame after having his heart crushed by the love of his life and working two jobs to get Karen through college, but at this point, he figures these are all small potatoes.The Bunny, Creek, alien, sci-fi fic you never asked forLoosely based off Stranger Things and Sims 4 Strangerville





	1. Fog

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I have a tumblr. It's mediocrefanfics. I will chat, answer questions, take requests - all sorts of things. Be my friend!

_Eat_

_Consume_

It glows as its tentacles slither towards him, making grotesque, wet popping noises against the stone. 

_Breed_

He tries to scream, but it grabs him by his throat.

_Devour_

He kicks as it lifts him higher. He feels like he’s going to vomit up the pulsing fruit he had eaten earlier.

Why did he even eat it?

Something twitches inside of him from his waist to his chest, spasming hard enough to jerk his body.

His vision is getting fuzzy around the edges, and he’s seeing flashing lights in the darkness.

He’s got to survive. For them. For everyone. For South Park.

He tries to fight the fog entrenching his mind when he hears it - no longer a distant whisper but right there in his ear - no, not in his ear, his mind.

_Become one_

*****

“Socializing is exhausting,” Kenny says as he throws himself on Token's stiff couch. He feels Stan sit next to him but doesn't bother to look. 

“Tell me about it. Want some Tylenol?”

Kenny opens one eye warily. Briefly he considers it, but with his luck, he’d overdose or something equally ridiculous - and his day is going to well to end it now. “Nah,” he sighs. “I don’t wanna pussy out after two glasses of wine anyway.”

“Remember the old days?” Stan laughs. “God, remember graduation night?”

They’re distracted by laughing behind them. Jimmy has cracked a joke that's made Clyde double over. Craig looks at him wryly from over his drink, and Tweek titters behind his hand. 

“Nice of Jim to come into town for Kyle’s party,” Kenny says, watching the old friend group reconnect. “It wasn’t a short trip.”

“We’re all proud of our lil Kyley-B,” Stan says cheekily, looking over the back of the couch at an approaching, unamused Kyle.

“If I weren’t so touched at you two throwing this thing, I swear to god I’d hit you, Stan.” Kyle crosses his arms, but even at his full height, Kenny can never take him too seriously- and by the way Stan laughs and pokes him, neither can he.

Not that Kyle doesn’t look - feel - completely different now that he’s officially back in South Park - now that he’s, well, the mayor.

“How does it feel, Mayor Kyley-B?” Kenny asks, winking at Stan.

“Shove it.”

“Now, is that any way for the mayor to talk to an educator?” Bebe says behind Kyle, throwing her arms around his waist.

Kenny looks away into the idyllic fire flickering in front of them. He’s long nursed his broken heart over Bebe, but the sight of her embracing the man she left him for - his own god damn best friend - burns at his insides. 

Kyle sighs and kisses the top of her head. “Seriously, though, thank you, guys.”

Kenny looks back at the happy couple, deciding to save face, and shrugs. “We’re sorry Ike couldn’t make it.”

“He’s always busy with something new,” Kyle says, rolling his eyes.

“It sounds like right now that’s Karen,” Bebe teases, leaving a red lipstick mark on Kyle’s cheek. Kenny feels a flare of irritation. Do they really have to parade in front of him like this?

He internally chides himself, forcing himself to smile. “God, have you thought about the fact that we could possibly become brothers-in-law?”

Kyle is about to say something back when an unmistakable voice cuts in the air. “HEY, Kyle!”

Stan and Kenny’s eyes meet and widen. “I thought we weren’t inviting Cartman?” Stan asks, looking towards the front foyer like something terrible has crossed the threshold.

“We didn’t.” Kenny searches the room until he sees Butters, chatting with Wendy in the corner. He nods his head towards the commotion, and Butters slips away after handing Wendy his drink. “That should keep him distracted.”

“I can’t believe that fat ass is crashing my party,” Kyle whines. Kenny knows that as well as Butters will do keeping Cartman out of Kyle’s hair, it won’t do any good if Kyle decides to be a little shit himself and start something.

“I think that’s my cue to go smoke,” Kenny says, getting up and stretching his arms over his head.

“What? I thought you quit?” Stan calls after him. “I quit because you quit!”

Kenny doesn’t answer, slipping out the sliding door and into the damp night. The weather has been a lot warmer, a lot wetter in the last couple of months - strange for this part of the world, but everyone only chalks it up to global warming. It's humid enough a thin fog clings to the ground, hovering over the backlit waters of Token's pool. The smell of chlorine is cloying, but he catches a whiff of a clove cigarette.

"I didn't think you made it!" he says when he sees Henrietta in a pool chair. She's staring blankly out into the darkness, the cherry of her cigarette pulsing red. "How long have you been here?" He takes a seat at the end of the chair.

Henrietta shrugs. “For a couple of hours. I’ve been keeping to myself.”

Henrietta’s voice is as dry as usual, but Kenny picks up on a note he hasn’t heard before in it, a rift in her usual sassiness.

“What’s up?” 

Henrietta bends down to snuff her cigarette on the terracotta patio, leaving a black scorch mark. Warm wind blows through, shaking the trees. It’s a quick but heavy wind, and in it Kenny can hear _them_.

“Can’t you feel that?” Henrietta asks, finally looking at Kenny. Her heavily lined eyes are wide, and for the first time ever Kenny thinks he may actually see fear in them.

*****

The kid looks down at his shoes - little red converse surprisingly clean. Usually with a student like this Kenny would take it as bashfulness or shame, but there’s a weird defiance in his expression. It’s unusual - especially since this kid is all honor roll and gold stars. He kind of reminds him of Wendy back in the day.

“So what do you think you should do next?” Kenny asks, keeping any patronizing tone in check. That’s his biggest weakness he feels like in these situations.

The kid gives a half-assed shrug and mutters “apologize”. It might as well have been a “fuck you”, but Kenny lets it slide. He’ll check in with the child’s homeroom teacher - for all he knows, the parents could be going through some litigious divorce or something.

Kenny sighs, and gets up to hold the door open. The kid moodily stands up, pulling his hood over his head. “This is unusual coming from you, Jason. I’ll expect better in the future, okay?”

Jason doesn’t respond, only glances up at him before shuffling out.

“And take off the hood, please!”

“Do you ever feel like a hypocrite?” Butters comes around the corner and slips by Kenny into his office. He closes the door behind him.

Kenny doesn’t answer until he embraces him, dipping down to kiss him quickly. “Sometimes,” he says with a grin. “But then I remember it takes one to know one.”

Butters puts his hands on his hips. His nice, round hips. Kenny squeezes them, and Butters swats him away. “Not during school hours.”

“If you say so, Mr. Stotch,” Kenny says. “So what did I do to deserve to see you on your free period?”

Butters looks sheepish and his round cheeks go red. He starts to rub his hands together in his nervous little ritual until Kenny takes them in his own.

“Well, I was just thinking, ya know, we’ve been hanging out for awhile. And I’ve been well, real fond of you since - since -”

“Forever, now?”

Butters grins, his cute, weird smile he does when he’s caught off guard. “I think it’s time we went on a date. A real date.”

“Oh, Mr. Stotch, are you asking me out?” Kenny runs his fingers through Butter’s hair - the thick blonde tuft on top, shaved on the sides real close. The boy has had the same haircut his entire life. Even eventually Kenny cut his shaggy hair, though it still has a tendency to grow past his ears much to Principal Mackey’s chagrin.

“Please stop calling me that. Yes, I am.” Butters has seemed to find his resolve, and he reaches up to grip the back of Kenny’s neck until their faces are so close he can smell the acrylic paint scent that clings to him.

Before he can respond, though, to this proposition he’s been waiting so desperately for (Kenny would’ve taken this step himself, but he could never tell where Butters stands - a complexity in the guy that seems like he should be so see through) his phone starts to buzz in his desk drawer.

He sighs, and they break apart. Only one person could be calling him during school hours. “Sorry, I have to get this,” he says, glancing back at Butters regretfully. He looks a little shell-shocked, probably at his own intensity.

Kenny pulls out his clam phone. He’s never been one for fancy smart phones or anything like that, and the more he can simplify his life, the better. He takes one look at the small screen and answers. “Hey, Karebear!”

“Hey, Kenny,” she says, and he can hear the bustling of the campus commons behind her. He can also hear Ike Broflovski loudly talking in the background. The boy is a distraction, and if it weren’t one of his best friend’s brothers, Kenny would’ve scared him off already. But that’s not what catches his attention - Karen sounds like she’s been crying.

“What’s wrong?” He waves at Butters as he walks out, who gives him a weak smile. His stomach drops, and he hopes the conversation can continue. Now the ball is in his court, and that’s never really a comfortable position when it comes to dating.

“Well, I, um, you know the class with the child lab I’m taking?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I - there’s fees. And I’m not sure how to pay them,” Karen says, voice meekish and faint.

“Oh,” Kenny says. Karen’s college funds are close to running dry, and Kenny has already taken up a night job to make ends meet. “That’s okay, sweetheart. How much?”

“$200,” she answers almost painfully.

“Holy shi-” he catches himself. “Okay. Well, when do you need it by?”

“The 18th.”

“The 18th…” Kenny consults the large wall calendar on his office wall, in primary colors and zoo animals dancing around the numbers. A cartoonish zebra mocks him from the 18th square. “That’s next week.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. We didn’t find out until today. I can see if I can take an extra shift-”

“No, no,” Kenny says quickly. “I’ll direct deposit it into your account in a couple of days. How does that sound?”

Karen sniffles a couple of times and gives a watery thank you before they hang up.

Kenny collapses in his office chair, worn and full of holes he dug out from a dusty supply closet. It creaks dangerously.

The fifth bell rings and the dull stampede of children fill the halls. It doesn’t take long before he hears a loud metallic bang and a shout. “Damn spring fever,” Kenny mutters before getting up to break up yet another fight.

*****

“I mean, he did just get that promotion.” Kenny cradles his head in his hand and looks at Tweek sleepily. His moonlighting at the bar is wearing him out, but it’s been a long time since he’s gotten to spend time with is old friend since he came back into town. That being said, he’s finding it hard to muster up interest in his marital life.

“I know, but I just thought- I just thought moving back to South Park would be a little less pressure on him.” Tweek stirs his tea slowly. He looks as tired as Kenny, but to be fair, he always looks like that.

Kenny shrugs. “Craig has always been weirdly intense about certain stuff. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Tweek narrows his eyes at him, finally taking his attention away from his mug. His long fingers tap on the side, making clinking noises against the ceramic. “I never said I was taking it personally.”

Kenny rolls his eyes. “I know you. You haven’t talked to him about it.”

Tweek opens his mouth to say something, but Kenny cuts him off. “Talk. Not yell, not passively aggressively hint.”

Tweek slumps, and Kenny can physically see him melt into one of his moods. “It’s hard to talk to someone when they’re not ever around.”

“Fair.” Kenny remembers tough love has never been the route to go with Tweek, and he figures he only needs a distraction. “Wanna go smoke and hang out at my place? My bar shift doesn’t start until 8 tonight.”

Tweek smiles and reaches for his coat - one that Kenny recognizes all the way from high school. If he remembers correctly, it was a Christmas present from Craig years ago.

Kenny yawns and stretches his arms, his joints cracking loudly as he does so, causing Tweek to wince. “What does he do in that lab anyway?”

Something dark passes over Tweek, and he looks out the window before they turn to leave. It’s raining - not snowing for once - and it runs down the panes in trails, the gray glow of the dim dusk reveals the purple veins under Tweek’s skin. “I don’t know. He isn’t allowed to say.”

*****

The bar is slow tonight, and Kenny takes his time rearranging the beer glasses in a more orderly fashion. It’s been his own personal project to clean this place up since Skeeter fell ill.

There’s only a couple of patrons, and they’re all the moody sort, who’d rather drown in their beer than make any conversation. Not even the music is playing, for that matter.

Kenny hears a buzz coming from his parka pocket, slung on the chair next to the supply room. He reaches to get it and is shocked when he sees the name on the screen.

“Principal Mackey? It’s a little late -”

“McCormick, I need you to meet me at the police station.”

“What?” Kenny asks, looking around as if he’d find some answers in the dingy bar. A bearded guy in a trucker hat looks up at him crossly. “What’s going on?”

“Just get here,” Mackey says, his voice grainy with tiredness before hanging up.

Kenny flips his phone closed and sighs. “Last call!” he yells.

*****

When Kenny walks in, the harsh light of the police station agonizing this late at night, he stops as soon as he sees Token’s face. He’s tall and broad, but his usual perfect posture is gone.

He and Clyde had joined the force for noble reasons, but as the years go by, it seems it wears them down more and more.

“What’s up?” Kenny asks.

Token stands up straighter. “Sorry to bother you this time of night,” is all he says, walking towards the back. Kenny follows suit, down some hallways, around some corners.

He leads him to a sparse room with a couple of office chairs. Mackey is sitting in one of them, old and gray, across from Clyde, who leans across a plywood desk. It looks like he’s been crying.

They both look at Kenny and Token as soon as they walk in. Kenny takes a seat next to Mackey and Token stands behind Clyde. Through all the sounds of the police station, Kenny realizes he can hear sobbing in the next room over.

Clyde pushes a photo towards Kenny, and he picks it up. The child - Jason - who had gotten in trouble earlier that week sat sitting in all his picture day wonder, hair meticulously combed and little sweater vest on. “Yeah, this is Jason Shaw. What did he do? I mean, he’s a good kid. Whatever he did, I’m sure -”

“He’s dead,” Clyde says. He says it not in his weepy, soft-hearted Clyde way - he says it like someone who deals with death as a reality every day.

Kenny’s mind fuzzes out and his stomach drops. No matter how much he’s experienced death himself, it only makes him empathize more - that boy was too young to find himself plunged in the icy darkness.

He realizes he didn’t say anything for awhile when Mackey clears his throat. “They found him in the woods. He -”

“We think it was an animal,” Token explains.

“What kind of animal?” Kenny asks. He realizes at this point it doesn’t matter - he’s been ripped apart by a menagerie of animals himself anyway - but he can’t help it.

“We don’t know. We sent some pictures Stan Marsh’s way (Kenny can only imagine the effect it’ll have on his friend’s delicate soul) and an out-of-town expert. Whatever it was - was big,” Clyde says.

The sobbing zeroes back into Kenny’s focus. Suddenly it makes sense. “So the family is in the next room?”

"Yes, we hated to call you and Mackey in, but something like this... in such a small town..." Clyde looks hopelessly around, grasping for the right words.

"I get it. It's my job," Kenny says, standing up. "We all have to stick together, right?"

*****

  
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Stan says over his fifth beer. He hadn’t said a word the entire night until now.

Kyle squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sorry, dude,” he says honestly. There isn’t much else to say.

Kenny has a million questions, but he thinks it’s wise to keep them to himself. Eventually Stan will talk about it on his own.

“I couldn’t even tell it was - I mean, it just - it looked like -” Stan grasps for the words. Kenny watches Kyle’s face go pale and decides it’s a good time to interject.

“We understand. Well… we don’t. But -”

“No, you don’t get it. I’ve never seen anything like that. I mean, he - he was all there? Whatever attacked him didn’t do it for food or anything. It was like it was all… for fun?” Kenny realizes by the way Stan’s eyes unfocus he’s compartmentalizing all of this the best way he can. Stan’s never been scientific in the least bit, but he is a damn good park ranger - and if he thinks about it from that viewpoint, he can distance himself from this entire thing that much easier.

Henrietta’s words echo in Kenny’s mind. There’s something in the wind. Kenny's stomach drops - not so much out of fear, but because things had been normal for such a long time now. It had been months since he had died, and even longer since anything happened within South Park's city limits that couldn't be easily explained.

His eyes meet Kyle’s. It seems like these things tend to target the two of them, and this bit of recognition flickers between them. Kenny makes a mental note to talk to him later - when his traumatized friend isn’t beginning to cry in his beer.

Kenny pats Stan’s hand and shushes him. Stan looks up at him and hiccups. “I’m being so selfish. You actually knew him. You must be- I’m such an idiot.”

Kenny shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Besides, aren’t we here for another reason?” He looks at Kyle eagerly for topic change.

“Yeah,” Stan says, perking up. “You’ve got big news.”

Kyle clears his throat and shifts in his seat, straightening up. His red hair is almost crimson in the low bar light. “Well, guys -” he starts. He breaks out in a grin and takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna be a dad. Bebe’s pregnant.”


	2. Lenore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues, and it's heating up!
> 
> I have a new Tumblr - itsmediocrefanfics. If you have trouble finding it, I put a notice of the change on my old Tumblr (mediocrefanfics) and used the new one to reblog it. Ask me questions, ask for requests, chat with me, be my friend :^) 
> 
> I appreciate all the support, and hope you love this weird lil fic.

“You’re over me? When were you … under me?!”

Kenny stares at the screen of his laptop, propped unsteadily against his bedside lamp. His retreat into non-reality through his “chicken noodle soup” show has lasted long enough that the spaces between his blinds glow.

He reaches for his trusty orange bottle and pops three sleeping pills in one go. He’s left a - hopefully coherent - email to Mackey he’s home sick today, and while usually he’d feel guilty for fibbing, Kenny knows he’d be no help to anyone if he went to work.

And this way he can sleep instead of actually feeling emotions, and what’s better than that?

As he stares at the ceiling and waits for the pills to kick in, the memory of Bebe breaking up with him is in an endless loop. The moment he tries to stop, it all comes back in more vivid color. Kenny's mind eye can picture the sparkle of her earrings when she tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes gathering with tears, and told him - with Kyle present!- about their affair.

Affair. They both balk at that word when Kenny uses it, but what else would he call it? All those late nights Bebe had spent with Kyle, heading PR for his burgeoning political campaign, couldn’t have been as innocent as she insisted. Kenny never makes it a point, choosing not to dwell on it, but now he regrets it.

Kenny imagines what it would be like to deck Kyle, and he feels an overwhelming wave of satisfaction.

He can’t remember the details of how he got home. He was more or less sober, but the emotional blow had left him disoriented and numb. Kenny’s truck is outside, parked in it’s usual spot, and he has a proper five o’ clock shadow, so the chances he died and regenerated are slim.

He’d ask Stan, but his phone is somewhere else - either still in the truck or in the back pocket of his discarded jeans - and he’d rather not look at it anyway.

His eyelids grow heavy, and his vision blurry, and suddenly he melts into the warmth of his bed. 

*****

When Kenny sits up in daze, he lightly presses his fingertips to his front teeth to make sure they’re still there. Between intervals of him awaking in a thick haze to bursts and streaks of color cascading in the darkness were shifty dreams that ended with his teeth crumbling out of his mouth. 

It takes him a hot second before he even realizes someone has been pounding on his door, and he forces himself up, stumbling across the room.

However, he doesn't make it to the door because standing in the entry way between his living room and the bedroom is Butters, worrying his hands. 

He obviously doesn't see Kenny only a few feet away - Butters is blind in one eye - and at this point Kenny realizes he's slept a good 12 hours into nighttime. 

There's no way to not scare the living shit out of him, Kenny thinks . He decides to go with the bandaid approach and flips on the light switch in the corner. 

Butters shrieks, backing up into the side of Kenny's couch and tumbling over. In his flailing descent he knocks over several empty beer cans from the night before, most of them used as impromptu ash trays, and Kenny feels his face burn. 

"Butters, Butters," he says, coming to his aid. Butters has finally stilled, lying on the couch in what Kenny can only imagine is embarrassment and shock. He takes his hand and hoists him up into sitting. 

Butters covers his face in his hands and groans. "I'm so sorry. Stan sent me because we hadn't heard from you, and we were worried, and so I came, but you didn't answer, so I used Stan's key, but I didn't really think about what I'd do afterwards, and I didn't -"

Kenny takes his hands and kisses them, grinning at the way it only makes Butters that much more bashful. "Well, I'm glad you did," Kenny says. Butters brings a welcomed warmth with him, and Kenny wants to crawl into his lap and forget any of this ever happened. He wonders if this Bebe thing is a sensitive topic for Butters, who apparently had loved him from afar for a long time, but they had never actually discussed any depth into their hooking up. 

Usually it just involved one of them being dick deep in the other and then passing out. 

"Hey, listen," Kenny begins quietly, catching Butters's bright blue eyes, "I should be over all this by now. I just hope you know it's not a reflection I guess of how I feel about you."

Butters shakes his head and squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t be. You really loved Bebe.”

“I really did,” Kenny says. Suddenly he can see her again as they walked hand in hand, blonde hair backlit by the setting sun, smiling up at him, and he feels like he’s been gutted right there.

What did he do to lose her? Is it that Kyle makes a great deal more than Kenny? That she’d be inheriting supportive, loving in-laws, and not a bunch of drunks and a sister-in-law she’d have to help support?

Maybe it’s because people listen to Kyle, maybe because he’s more handsome than Kenny.

As if Butters can read his mind, he leans on Kenny and puts his head on his shoulder. “Her leaving is not a reflection of who you are as a person, you know that, right?”

Kenny thinks about hugging him close, but something stirs in him, and instead he cups Butters face with his hand.

His expression changes, and Kenny knows he knows exactly what's about to happen.

Butters doesn't wait for Kenny to make the first move. They collide into each other, and Kenny moans into the kiss when Butters tangles his fingers in his hair and tugs a little. He pushes him to lay down on the couch and presses his hard-on into Kenny's.

This is one of his favorite things about his physical relationship with Butters - the way he takes charge. Butters is seemingly soft and gentle, but the way he grabs Kenny's jaw and forces him to look him in the eyes while he pops the button on his pants make any little bit of blood left in Kenny's head rush to his groin. 

"I can think of a few ways to make you feel better," he says lowly before leaning down and kissing Kenny. 

He snakes his hand into Kenny's jeans and frees his dick without much trouble. He strokes it, his thumb running across the head. 

Kenny moans and bends his knees, thrusting into Butters's hands, suddenly feeling a million degrees warmer. It's been awhile since he's been touched like that - his second job, not to mention a persistent depression - has kept him from being the usual horndog he is, but now it feels so good. 

He reaches down to paw at Butters's pants, but he takes Kenny's hand and pins it above his head. "Uh uh," he whispers into his ear before nipping it. "I just want to make you feel good."

Kenny wiggles underneath his surprisingly strong grip but eventually goes slack. The way Butters's erection rubs against his thigh, obviously trapped and swollen in his pants, makes Kenny only more aware of his and the way he's pumping it. 

Soon he feels that growing pressure, the pulling warmth before all he can mutter is, "Holy shit, I'm gonna cum." 

Butters makes a triumphant little noise as Kenny spills into his hand. He kisses Kenny hungrily, never breaking it as he finally releases his own dick and pumps it until he comes quickly and quietly. 

Butters sits back and sighs, with a sweet grin. "Feel any better?"

*****

A couple of days pass by and the sharp pain of Bebe’s pregnancy dulls enough that Stan is able to convince him to talk to Kyle again.

He decides to meet Kyle next to Stark’s Pond - a neutral ground. More than anything Kenny wants privacy, but this way Kyle won’t see his wreck of a house and Kenny doesn’t have to see proof of his and Bebe’s domestichood.

He’s sitting on the bench, across from the pond. Kenny looks up at the moon, but the fog is too oddly thick to see it clearly. It burns his eyes and smells rancid, and for a second he thinks it’s the nearby plastics plant, but he doesn’t remember it ever being this bad.

Kenny coughs into his hand and doesn’t even notice Kyle sit next to him. His arms are crossed like a petulant child’s. “You wouldn’t cough like that if you didn’t smoke.”

“Fuck off,” he mutters, spitting away from them.

Kyle’s stance softens. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Okay,” is all Kenny offers, not exactly impressed by any attempts. He narrows his eyes and observes Kyle, who obstinately refuses to make eye contact.

“It’s been two years, Kenny, I thought you were over this-”

“Nope,” Kenny says, standing up. “I’m not doing this right now.”

He starts to walk away, but Kyle grabs him from the back of his jacket and pulls him back down onto the bench. “Fucking listen to me.”

“Fine, you wanna talk? You don’t get to act like I should just… just be over this.” He grabs Kyle by the arms. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” Kyle says, reserved, a little in shock from Kenny’s growing wrath.

“The absolute fucking truth.”

“Okay.”

“Did you two mess around while Bebe and I were still together?” It’s been a question haunting him for years - one that seems like the very first thing he should have asked, but he's always been too afraid. Because he knows what the answer is - he knows what their lies are - and it emotionally guts him every time he thinks about it. 

There's only a wild, helpless look in Kyle's eyes, his lips parted in an attempt to form words - form whatever false truth he's convinced himself in order to feel better about fucking his best friend's fiance.

“You son of a bitch,” Kenny says. “Don’t you ever -”

A woman screams in the distance, in a way that raises the hair on the back of Kenny’s neck. It’s long and piercing until it’s not, leaving a hollowness in the air around them.

*****

Tweek is worrying his little tabby's tail through his fingers, and Kenny wonders how docile this cat has to be not to claw the shit out  of him. He can't quite remember it's name - Faust, maybe? - but it remains perched in Tweek's lap, like a watchful guardian. 

Kenny hasn’t slept since two nights ago. Between the newest murder and Kyle's non-confession keeping him up, he had watched all of Friends season 6. 

After the scream, Kenny had made to go into the woods himself, but Kyle stopped him and called 911. During all the commotion, Kenny snuck away into the shadows. 

It wasn't until the next day Stan told him - this time it was an 18-year-old girl, not much younger than Karen. Her body had been snapped in half, her spine sticking out of the ground like a jagged tree limb. 

It had already occurred to Kenny he could reach her in the afterlife - especially with Henrietta's help - and ask her what happened and be done with it, but in his experience violent deaths tended to yield confused and pitiful spirits.

Now he's doing what he does best - coming to the aid of others - and he watches as one of his best friends struggles to find the words without reverting to the frantic little boy he used to be. Now Tweek looks truly tired, and if the coffee cup in front of him is any indication - Tweek has refused to touch the stuff since he left his parents' house - he's not been getting much sleep either. 

"Every time I call he bites my head off," Tweek says, voice low and controlled. "When he actually picks up."

“And you really have no clue what he’s doing there?”

Tweek pulls his cardigan closer around him.  “No.” Kenny can tell in the hesitation it’s a lie. “Well…”

Tweek twitches and holds his cat to his chest. "I think whatever it is - is botany-based?" Kenny gives him a quizzical look, and Tweek shrugs. "He asked me a bunch of questions about gardening before he went totally fucking radio silent. But it doesn't make any sense, though. Why would they ask an epidemiologist to do plant stuff?"

"I have no idea. When's the last time you even saw him?"

Tweek makes a face between an eye roll and a grimace. "Shit, a week ago?"

"A week ago?" Kenny feels irritation on his friend's behalf. Sure Craig wasn't the cuddliest of people, but he had always been good to Tweek, even when they weren't together. Kenny would never expect this kind of behavior from him.

"Am I being selfish?" Tweek asks, leaning forward. Faust-or-whatever-it's-name-is wiggles out of his lap and lands on the floor gracefully. "Am I?"

"Are you being selfish to expect your husband not to disappear for a week without at least an explanation? No, Tweek, I wouldn't call that selfish."

Tweek sighs, stirring his coffee and staring into the cup with a thousand yard stare. "I think I'm gonna just go pay him a visit."

“No, absolutely not,” Kenny says without thinking. “I mean- do what you want, but you really shouldn’t.” The last thing Kenny needs right now is Tweek wandering into those woods. 

Tweek doesn't even seem to register his friend's sudden alertness. He only shrugs, and then asks Kenny if he's hungry.

*****

Kenny stares blankly at the empty chair across from him. It’s the first time this week he hasn’t had a student in it. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but they’ve had to reserve an extra room for detention.

He takes a deep breath, reveling in the silence, when a knock comes to his door. “Oh great,” he says under his breath, getting up to open it.

When he sees it’s Butters, though, he instantly grins and pulls him inside. “Hey, what’re-”

Butters grabs his arm and squeezes it. His eyes are wide. “I think I need to show you something,” he says. “But you have to promise you won’t think I’m crazy.”

“I promise,” Kenny says with trepidation.

Butters tells him to follow him to the art room, and when he does, Kenny stops in the doorway. They’re all pinned to a corkboard, lined up neatly.

Kenny walks up to them. Slashes of black and grey cut across, occasionally cut by bright red. The paint looks so thick, it seems like the canvas would be almost soggy, but when Kenny touches one, it’s dry.  
They’re just paintings - student artwork at that - but Kenny can see them in the clumps of paint.

And they’re all like that. There’s maybe a dozen or so.

“All by different students?” Kenny asks, turning around to find Butters behind him, arms crossed like he’s hugging himself. He nods.

“Holy shit,” Kenny says. “I gotta do something about this.”

Butters shakes his head and takes Kenny by the arm. “Just tell me how I can help.”

*****

Kenny stares at the iron door in front of him and realizes he didn’t quite think that far. He pulls his hood farther over his head and jiggles the handle, confirming his suspicions that the door is indeed locked.

“Fuck,” he mutters. There’s other ways he can get in, of course, but he’d rather not. Kenny is hesitant to tap into himself like that, uncomfortable with the sensation of being an other. Being one of them.

But he might not have a choice.

He steps back, takes a deep breath, and braces himself. Underneath his jacket, tucked into the waistband of his pants, he feels the brush of metal against his fingertips. Carefully - and he’s not sure why he takes so much precaution - he pulls out his pistol.

No matter how many times he does this, he never feels quite prepared. “On the count of three,” he whispers to himself, pressing the barrel against his temple. “One… two… three…”

*****

He slips through the labyrinth of the lab, following the sound of music - something with a driving bass - that floats through the still air. He touches the metal walls as he goes, gathering up whatever energy he can from them.

In his experience, he maybe has three- four minutes tops- with Craig.

Kenny finds Craig with his back turned in a lab room that would be stark if it weren’t for all the dead plants heaped in pots and soil streaked across the floor.

Craig is closely examining something on a table, and if Kenny is hearing correctly, he’s murmuring to himself underneath the music. There’s pauses between his phrases, and even though Kenny can’t quite make out what he’s saying, it sounds like he’s talking with someone. Or something.

The lights flicker as Kenny takes the last bit he can, and Craig turns around sharply.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses. Craig hasn’t always been the most put together guy - one of those types who doesn’t have to try to look good - but this is a whole other level for him. He’s got dark bags underneath his usually sharp eyes that are unusually dulled. His skin looks almost green underneath the lighting, and he’s got a verifiable beard, which Kenny knows Tweak would not be a fan of.

“You look like shit,” is all Kenny says, moving towards him. He’s not sure if he’s actually walking in the normal sense, but Craig doesn’t betray otherwise. He just looks pissed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Craig asks again, flashing his shiny veneers at him in sort of scowl.

“What are you doing here?” Kenny says lowly. He reaches out and grabs Craig’s chin, who tries to jerk away. He knows his hands must be ice cold, but he forces Craig to look him in the eye.

His pupils are huge, and in his eyes’ usual murky green, there’s flecks of yellow, probably not unlike Kenny’s at the moment. “It’s none of your business,” Craig hisses at him.

“Maybe not,” Kenny says, letting go and stepping back. He can feel his corporal form flicker. He’s running out of time. “But Tweek is going to come looking for you.”

“No, he can’t,” Craig says, suddenly grabbing his stomach. He winces.

“What’s worth more to you? Whatever this is or him?”

“Him, of course,” Craig says through gritted teeth. A thin trail of blood drips from his nose.

Kenny feels his last bit of tether to this plane snap, and he disappears altogether, trying not to think about what’s lying on the table behind Craig.

*****

Kenny decides he needs a break from all this gloom, so that weekend he kidnaps Stan from the ranger lodge, and they head out to Denver. Despite his eagerness to get away as far as he can from South Park, it seems to haunt his thoughts wherever he goes.

He leans his seat back - Stan always insists on driving - and rubs his eyes. Stan hums tunelessly to the radio, probably occupied with his own thoughts.

Kenny watches the passing landscape, pine trees melting into an evergreen blur. His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he has to undo his seatbelt to get it out.

“It’s Karen,” he says as Stan turns the dial down.

“Hey, Karebear!”

“Hey, Kenny,” Karen says. He once again can hear Ike talking in the background. “Um, so my exams finished early, so I think I’m gonna come home for spring break this weekend.”

Kenny grins, elated at this news, until his stomach drops as he remembers what’s going on. But what is he supposed to say? Don’t come home because some supernatural force is on a rampage?

“That’s great news, Karebear,” he says instead, watching Stan point to the line of vehicles passing them, headed in the opposite direction to South Park. Big, cumbersome vehicles in olive green and shades of tan. “Can’t wait to see you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I could've gotten more tentacle porn-y with things, and I didn't. You're welcome.


End file.
